Vibrations on the Air
by BG Sparrow
Summary: [COPYING BEETHOVEN] Anna marveled at the splendor surrounding her in the brief moment he had left her side that evening. She, a guest of the Archduke Rudolf von Hansburg-Lothrigen. It was dizzying to think she would end up here one day, escorted by Ludwig van Beethoven no less.


**Vibrations on the Air**

* * *

Eighteen months to the day, Anna Holtz was handed the letter that would change her life. In desperate need of a copyist, her professor said, and a fine opportunity for a young, gifted composer. She did not understand his smiling eyes then, but now she found herself in a reality far more wondrous than he could ever know copying Beethoven would give her.

That letter had been the gentle gust that led to the whirlwind. In those four days between arriving at Schlemmer's doorstep and assisting "the Beast" through his celebrated Ninth Symphony, her expectations of returning to the conservatory full-time by the following week were dashed by his need of her. His plea for her to continue working with him, though it was hardly a consideration otherwise. Developing works with him, leaving Martin Bauer fuming over a busted model bridge for him. He boasted of her hard work and dedication in the year that had passed since, her loyalty to her craft. And in that time, it had become evident to more than she his reliance and dedication to her.

The chandeliers bathed her in rich, warm light, the ballroom around her glowing as if she were inside of a star. Light. Everywhere - bright, living light dancing on the marble pillars, bending in the curves of wine glasses, lending an other-worldly beauty to the women's hair. Women angelic in satin gowns of ivory and rose, lavender and jade. Men perfectly tall and broad in their most upstanding top hats and cravats. Layered in molten skirts of gold, she felt as if it were moving around and over and through her.

It was a like a painting from another life; she had seen it before, had even been part of it for a time now, but continual exposure to this extravagant atmosphere never waned her awe, never made her feel any less than blessed to be in attendance. The Archduke held events to be envied by all of Vienna, and this evening's affair was no different.

She, a guest of the Archduke Rudolf von Hansburg-Lothrigen. It was dizzying to think she would end up here one day, escorted by Ludwig van Beethoven no less.

Anna marveled at the splendor surrounding her in the brief moment he had left her side that evening. His return found her engrossed in wonder and admired by his smile.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked, gently breaking her reveries.

"Very much. Thank you for bringing me."

"I wasn't going to bring the cleaning woman," he chuckled. "Besides that, I'm sure she is not as fine a dance partner as you are, Anna Holtz."

She smiled kindly, ever-amused at his use of her full name long after their becoming close acquaintances. Dark eyes unyielding, Beethoven offered his hand. The gentleness of his fingers closing around hers would have seemed so contradictory to the rumors and stories she'd entertained before now, and even after knowing him, uncharacteristic. But as they joined the couples in waltz, there was not a trace of hard scorn in the creases of his brow, nor a stern frown on his lips. There was tranquility; a rare, thoughtful jovialness in his gaze. It was refreshing. Even as a confidant and companion, scarce were the moments that she found him weightless and pleasant.

"You look every inch the angel you are. Beautiful. Uplifting."

Anna's cheeked colored. "You are too kind, Maestro."

"You better not let them overhear such talk," he said, tossing his head in the direction of the Archduke. "Praise my musicianship and insight to the soul, but kindness…"

"You are a unique gentleman when you want to be."

"Hush," he whispered, coaxing another grin from her. He smirked at her conspiratorially, leaning in. "We will leave the definition of 'unique' open to interpretation for their debate."

Anna humored him with a compliant nod as he straightened and they moved along the edge of the twirling couples. She had danced with him a time before this, three, four months prior. He kept time effortlessly despite his deafness, but there was something more to be said for his lack of light-footedness. But as he was, more often than not, a hard, brute of a man – never mind one with a walking stick - she hardly expected him to have the grace of a swan. Still, where his technique lacked, her held her assuredly, properly; he held her in such a way that she felt as delicate and beautiful as he had insisted she had always been. Cradling her hand chivalrously and her back with utmost care, he guided fluently, if not begrudgingly under the eyes of bemused onlookers.

Let them look, Anna heard herself thinking. They may not have a change of heart towards him, seeing him waltz his way around a ballroom with her, but let them at least pause the way she does from time to time to think their judgement was passed too soon. Sighing up to the chandelier happily, she wished that the world saw the glimpses of decency she did while selfishly wanting to keep those distinct moments all to herself. If God had created any person to embody a storm, it was him. The way every aspect of him ebbed and flowed dramatically without precedent had snatched up that letter and her along with it.

And though the sun was beautiful and gracious and so much flourished in it, she had come to love the thunder. The minor chords. The deep trembles and booming crashes. Her heart hardly raced aside from his tumultuous presence. Even in these peaceful lulls, Anna was waiting for the next set of dark clouds to roll over him.

Yet even in the eye of this storm, as a serene silence overtook his features, her heart did race. It ran away with thoughts of why he would not look away from her.

It wasn't that he would not, no. Beethoven found he could not. He could not find one thing more worthy of his attention in the room.

A lifetime ago, when he had asked Anna so callously why she wished to be near him, her answer was that of a shy but aspiring composition student – to believe that she, too, could write music. A composition student that had since found a voice less meek and intimidated than in that moment. And no longer just that.

"Do you know why I wish to be near you, Anna Holtz?" he asked softly. She looked up, the smile chased away from her face. "You fill me with a joy I have never experienced before. The music in my head and heart soars to you, desperate to be whole."

Anna watched the depths of his eyes grow as his thumb at her back slowly smoothed the lines in the silk. He glanced at the teardrop pearl of her earring, the lace between her sleeve and skin, and seamlessly found her eyes again. Anna's eyes darted as he slowed their waltz out of step and to a stop. He lowered their hands between them, and her hand slipped from his shoulder to be taken by the one sliding off her back. He looked down at them, his speech distant while still resonating within her.

"I am frightening, arrogant, crude, and yet you still return to me. You touch my face and calm the beast inside me. You speak, and I listen. I can feel your very presence in my soul, as if you have always been there."

Beethoven ran his thumb over the top of her finger. "I have believed for some time now that we have long been joined through music. Perhaps since before we met. God sent you to revive me, and in doing so gave me reason to breathe. Bound me in every way to you. In every way but one."

Anna blinked breathlessly, troubled to see him fall sullen.

"Maestro –"

"I'm so harsh to you, Anna. I'm a fool."

"Your weaknesses do not define you."

Beethoven looked up. _No mortal has ever lifted my veil._

Anna Holtz was no mortal.

"What chance," he mused quietly, "does an old, stupid fool have in holding your heart until his dying day?"

Speechless, Anna grounded herself in his eyes. A weightlessness overcame her despite his disarming stare and the people brushing past the heavy skirts of her gown. When his eyes fell again, she recaptured them.

"You need merely ask."

Beethoven's eyes grew as the Archduke's voice filled the room, summoning him forward to begin the night's performance. A hesitant smile reached the corners of his mouth, and he lifted their hands higher between them with a squeeze. She smiled, urging him away to the Archduke's calls.

"You must go, Maestro. I, too, want to hear it."

Beethoven straightened and took a step closer to her. His voice low, she could feel his breath on her hands warming her face. A different storm then rolled into his dark eyes – a triumphant storm. The flashes of lightning were exultant, the clouds billowed with pride.

It was thrilling.

"I will return for you, Anna Holtz."

And with a kiss to her hand, the lightning ignited her skin.

As his fingers slipped away and he, to the front of the room, Beethoven glowed so that Anna now knew he was the source of light inside this star.


End file.
